


Nuyen and Yule- December Reddit Writing Prompts

by SnowSetAfire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shadowrun
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-13 03:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowSetAfire/pseuds/SnowSetAfire
Summary: I'm taking all of December to write the r/fanfiction's "Itty Bitty Festivities" prompts with the HP/SR fic I want to write in mind.  I have a broad outline for the plot at least, which figures into some of the prompts.  Unfortunately, only two weeks of prompts were posted.





	1. From One Generation to Another

**Author's Note:**

> December 1: Traditions  
> Think of your favorite holiday tradition (for any holiday) and translate it into the world of your story or finagle it into working with your characters. (500 words)

There was one more present under the tree. Harry picked it up and read the tag even though he knew who it was for and what was inside. After all, he wrapped it.

“Well, looks like the last one is for you, Granddad. ‘To Harry, from Santa.’”

“’To Harry, from Harry,’ more like. Who’s this on the paper?”

“Karl Kombatmage. He’s got a new trid flik out in London.”

The senior Harry Potter picked open the garish orange and blue paper at either side of the present. Maybe he should have picked something a little more wizardly, thought Harry. But this was the only thing he could get on short notice from the Stuffer Shack before getting back to the Scottish Habitable Zone’s wizarding community all the way from London. “Plus,” Lyra had goaded him, “It’d be funny, wouldn’t it?” Harry doubted it. Grandad wasn’t ever much for trideo and was less and less interested in combat magic as he entered his nineties, even as he still harbored a certain paranoia. Hence the present. Harry hoped it would please. It was terribly hard to find something that would suit someone larger than life in so many ways.

Granddad pulled off the paper and let the nondescript black box rest in his lap. He picked at one of his tusks, a nervous habit he had picked up after goblinizing back in ’21. Harry could feel the edge of his chair digging into his bony ass.

No sooner than he flipped open the plastic closures on the box, a broad grin spread across Granddad’s face. “A Krime Cannon…” He smiled, his green eyes lighting up, “How did you know?”

He picked up the assault cannon, marveling over every centimeter from the faux-wood stock to the aftermarket suppressor, pausing at the filed-off serial number.

“Well, you’d been wanting something that fits. It’s alright that it’s a little used?”

“It’s not a wand. It’ll work just fine, right?”

‘A little used’, was perhaps too tame. Harry had liberated it from the Ministry after taking the gun from a particularly nasty Dark Witch troll. She had gotten off one shot from her Cannon after Harry disarmed the witch of her wand. It missed, but Harry’s next spell didn’t. Thank God she wasn’t razorgirl or he’d have been pink mist. Thank god he didn't have to scrounge up the nuyen for it, because heaven knew who would accept Galleons for a gun.

“I’m glad you like it.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Granddad put the gun back in its case and ruffled Harry’s coal-black hair. “There’s a reason you’re my favorite grandson.”


	2. Never Deal With a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 2: Family   
> Check out [TV Tropes page for Family Tropes] and pick one that will work for you. Does mom always walk in at the wrong moment? Do we have a white sheep or a black sheep? Let us know the trope at the end. (300)
> 
> I picked "Happily Adopted", for Norberta.

Lyra stirred three lumps of sugar into her tea, forgoing milk. The clink of her spoon against the sides of her cup sang counterpoint to the sounds of nature outside Hagrid’s hut. The old half-giant was somewhere out teaching the newest, smallest class of Hogwarts students yet. Instead of watching real wizards learn like a jealous squib, Lyra kept company with Norberta. It wasn’t like she had much of an option.

“Hogwarts is certainly a strange place to go over work details.” Lyra mused aloud. She took a sip of her tea and found she could still not mask the bitter taste. Lyra was beginning to think that it wasn’t that Norberta couldn’t make a good tea; merely that her dragon’s palate was far too different than a human’s.

Norberta looked at Lyra dispassionately with her large, orange eyes. “Why so? Not like anyone would bug this place. In any case, I needed to visit Father. He’s getting on in years.”

That was true enough. At the very least, Lyra highly doubted that any wizard would be interested in the type of work she usually took on. “Just used to London, I guess. If it’s not too personal to ask, what made you want to come back here after Romania?”

“Father, of course. I still remember playing with him as a hatchling. Not to mention,” here Norberta pulled her sleek black hair away from her dusky face, “those other ‘dragons’ were frightfully dull to be around after we rolled around into the Sixth World. Charlie kept on treating me like I was one of those stupid beasts. So I came home and hoped that old Celedyr wouldn’t eat a cute little thing like me. Father, of course, welcomed me with open arms. He always was too kind.”

Norberta laughed and Lyra tried not to cringe. Eighty years old and Norberta didn’t have a handle on laughing like a real person. The sounds coming out of her mouth sounded more threatening than mirthful. Then again, Lyra could never think of how to correct a dragon, even if she was wearing the form of a teenager. She might get eaten.

“Actually, this mission will be a little bit of a gift for Father. He’s told me of poachers at the edge of the Forbidden Forest again. Now, what I want you to do…”


	3. A Whole New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 3: News   
> Your MC has big news. Huge news. This is the kind of news that will rock the foundation of their life. Who do they tell first, and how? (200)

Lyra opened her eyes. A smile and nervous laughter spread across her face. She’d done it. She’d really done it! For the first time she had been able to see, if only for a brief flash, the astral plane. For a microsecond, she had been able to see beyond the limits of her grey-green eyes and perceive the soul of the world. The dull glow of algae in the nearby fountain, the tiny sparkles of insects congregating around a sodium lamp that was a mere black shade of its meat-world self, the swirling colors of other people out in the park, they were all a new world for Lyra to explore.

Immediately she called up Harry. She had to tell him. His face on the AR projection of her commlink was bleary-eyed.

“It’s 2am, Lyra and I got a headache. I’m not in the mood for-“

“I did it!” Lyra exclaimed before dropping down to a whisper. “I saw it! The astral plane!”

“Yeah, but it’s still not very wizardly is it?”

“It’s wiz, is what it is. You don’t even know what you’re missing.”

“Shouldn’t you go to sleep? I have to work tomorrow.”

“Frag you, chummer. You don’t know what you’re missing. I’m meeting up for another run at half past, soon as the rigger arrives. How about dinner tonight if the paydata’s good?”

“Yeah, sure. Good night.”

Harry closed the comm channel. Lyra was soon back to beaming. Two hours in and it was already her lucky day.


	4. Christmas Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 4: Decor  
> Wow! Someone went really crazy with the decorations. They're everywhere. Seriously. What is going on here? (500 words)

“Entire place is lit up like a fraggin’ Christmas tree.” Lyra grumbled. “All of you are too. Fraggin’ wands.”

“If you’re so upset, hide in the library. It’s your house.” Harry said, leading Lyra through a turn in their waltz before holding her close again. She moved with liquid grace. Harry could hardly recognize the beauty in front of him as the shadowrunner who lived in a decrepit London flat and whose general idea of “dressing up” was a ponytail in her fine white-blonde hair and pants without holes.

“Can’t. Grandad would be mad at me, and Lucius would be happy. You really should teach yourself to perceive astrally. Lucius’ seething red right now, even if he’s smiling.”

“I’d rather not.” Harry sighed.

If he wanted to read people like Lyra was learning to, he would have taken Divination. And as it was, wasn’t a Christmas party the time to enjoy whatever illusions the season had to offer? Malfoy Manor was already as beautiful or more so than Hogwarts was for the Yule Ball when he was a student. Let the green and silver candles float among conjured trees. Let the enchanted ice sculptures hiss and roar as they cooled the punch and guarded hors d’oeuvres like a dragon’s hoard. Let Lyra be a Malfoy and not a squib. Let himself hold her and know that it was not just for a dance, but forever, and not for spite, but for love. Let there be happiness, however feigned, in this ever-shrinking and sad world.

Their waltz ended, and the invisible orchestra struck up a new, a slow and pulsating song that sent most of the witches and wizards off of the ballroom floor and towards the drinks and canapes. Lyra broke away to join them, but Harry took her hand.

“Wait, Lyra. I think we can make this a tango, if you would like.”

She turned around, her eyes glittering, “Alright, Snake Eyes-“ Harry winced that she would use his old nickname and shadowrunning handle in public, even if it was for his ears only, “-you got me hypnotized, let’s do it.”

Once more Harry held her close. With each sensual step and embrace, his illusion continued towards the cold light dawn.


	5. Bleeding Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 5: Serendipity   
> Even when things are rough there are beautiful moments of serendipity when everything just clicks into place for a wonderful moment. (300)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olympia is an old PC of mine. She had a sincere belief that she was a robot in a human body.

The entirety of Borgin and Burke’s front room exploded out onto Knockturn Alley, taking Squibs with it. Tattered relics rained down along with hail and dissipating curses on the cobblestones. Through a haze of blood and pain, she wrestled herself to her feet. She’d broken something in the fall. Probably many things. But she was somehow alive and able to stare down the thing she had once counted as a fellow shadowrunner, or even as a friend. It stared back at her with hot-pink, pupilless cybereyes that gave no hint as to whether the abomination Squibs once knew as Olympia had any memory of who she was before she became more machine than human.

Trailed by the twisted spirit which had summoned a storm to defend its charge, the cyberzombie drew closer, filling Squibs with a sense of unbearable fear. It shouldn’t exist. This was far worse than what Snake Eyes had called a horcrux, even if the magic might have had similar roots. But for now, Squibs was alive. She summoned her will into a crackle of magic lightning around her fists. She was alive. And while she was alive, she had a fighting chance to win.


	6. Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 6: Culture   
> A close friend or family member wants to share an important tradition with your MC. One from a culture or time they aren't familiar with. (300)

“Thanks again for the tickets, Mr. Potter.” Lyra said, passing out hot snacks wrapped in paper to both Harry and his grandfather before sitting down in the stands. “I’ve never been to a quidditch game before, just read about it.”

“Really? Draco was telling me you were a phenom on a broom.”

“That was when I was nine.” Lyra said.

She reached into her leather coat and pulled out a flask and added enough to her butterbeer that it stank of hops and nutmeg and burned the inside of Harry’s nose. Granddad was as ecstatic a little boy again, a strange picture when he stood an easy three feet taller than other wizards and had tusks breaking up his smile. The wind blew his salt-and-pepper hair against the trimmed stumps of his horns, exposing the old, infamous lightning bolt scar. Harry wondered if Granddad noticed how much he put off Lyra with his mention of broom riding. He could be good at ignoring other people’s discomfort. Going from “The Boy Who Lived” to “The Boy Who Lived Too Long” might do that to a wizard. Goblinization was tough on muggles and wizards alike.

“But you know how it’s played, right? I was a seeker back in my day. Captain, too. The game was better then, brooms weren’t so fast and the damned muggle government didn’t try to muck about with the regs.”

Harry could tell Lyra had tuned out his Granddad. Of course, he himself was prone to doing so. His own memories of Quidditch were more about the hustle he could manage during a match, or how well he could sneak around Hogwarts with attention drawn towards the pitch. At least Lyra was watching the game now and not halfway through whatever potion she turned her drink into. Her eyes were scanning the field as the players warmed up.

“Snake Eyes, hundred galleons on UCAS.” She said quickly to Harry.

“C’mon, you know the odds. Are you drunk already?”

“It’s not even half hurlg.” Lyra retorted, “And course I know, chummer. You just watch, I’m confident on this one.”


	7. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 7: Peace   
> In 50 words or less write an emotional work that shows the word 'peace'. Don't use the word in your story! (50)

Grease and hydraulic fluid leaked from the cavity behind Olympia’s cybereyes as residual power faded from her limbs. Finally, stillness. Her violently despairing aura cooled to lifeless gray, the color of new-fallen snow under a setting sun.

Lyra shivered. It was time to go home and pray she could forget.


	8. Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 8: Favorite Moment   
> Think of a favorite moment between you and your family (chosen family works). Now translate that into the world of your characters! (300)

Harry paced up and down his Granddad’s bedroom, looking at the pictures adoring the wall. Some of those portrayed waved back at him, others cajoled the others confined within their frames. Some seemed eager to escape their yellowed newspaper clippings. Harry could recognize a few, even if they were bordering on ancient. Hermione especially stood out, always recognizable for her hair even as she was captured first as a young girl, then a vibrant woman, and then an increasingly indomitable and older witch. Granddad was also obvious, first as a human boy with a lightning scar, and then as a troll with the same. His image was far more camera-shy after he changed.

“Looking at pictures, Harry?” Grandad asked as he passed in the hallway.

“Yeah. I hadn’t seen some of these before. It’s weird to see so much, I don’t know, personality? And on paper too.”

“You spend too much time in London. We have problems with dark wizards enough here.”

Harry paused at one newer photo, trying to make sense of it.

“Who’s this? I don’t remember holding a baby.” Harry asked, pointing to one where his image cradled an infant. The infant was laughing as he was bounced up and down on Harry’s knee.

“Which picture? Ah, I see. That’s your dad, holding you.”

“Dad?” Harry marveled. It was his spitting image. Messy black hair, green eyes, more serious than Granddad but still in love with life. It seemed impossible how James could look like him and like his own father but the elder and younger Harry Potter were so easy to tell apart at the same age. It made Harry feel a little heartsick. He lost his father and mother in the 2047 attack on Tynesprawl. He was only seven, and had to learn that his parents would never come home from hospital, that the strain of para-VITAS unleashed was beyond anything magic or wizardry could heal. Yet, seeing this picture endlessly replaying that one perfect moment, he felt like once again his father was with him.


	9. Christmas Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 9: The Holidays   
> Check out this page on Holiday Tropes and pick one that will work with your characters. (200)
> 
> Suffer through my filk

God Rest Ye Merry Runners (God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen)

God rest ye merry runners and  
Let nothing you dismay  
It could be worse, remember Deus  
Was born on Christmas day  
He took over all of the SCIRE  
With human lives it played  
So shut up and choke back your nutrisoy  
Cold nutrisoy  
So shut up and choke back your nutrisoy

A Street Sam’s Carol (Deck the Halls)

Shoot straight and conserve your ammo  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Make sure you don’t forget your camo  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Never, ever deal with dragons  
BLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM BLAMBLAM  
Update your contract with DocWagon  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Geek the mage first when you spot him  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Find your combat drugs and pop them  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Never trust an elf, those pixies  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM  
Some of their mortal’ty’s iffy  
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM


	10. Dark Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 10: Gifts   
> A series of surprises leads your MC to an unexpected gift giver. Does this change how your MC feels about this character? Does it give them any new insights? (500)

A house elf lay dead on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Surrounded by a pool of congealed blood and dimly lit by the widely-spaced wall candelabras, it was a smaller and more miserable thing in death than in life.  
“Wingardium leviosa.” Harry intoned, pointing his wand at the body. The house elf didn’t move.  
“What are you doing?” Draco asked suspiciously. He was pacing back and forth behind Harry, his face a mask of impatient rage. He was right to be so. Someone had broken into his home. Someone had murdered his house elf. Someone had attacked Draco as well. And then that someone disappeared into the night, one of the Malfoy family’s prized Dark Arts artifacts in hand.  
Slowly, the house elf’s chest began to shiver as a flattened slug emerged and levitated it in the air. Harry directed it over to him and let it drop in a gloved hand.  
“Lumos.” Harry pointed the lit tip of his wand towards the slug and showed it to Draco. “This bullet was coated in alchemical silver, Draco. I wish I could say we were dealing with mere Dark Wizards, or muggle thieves. But whoever did this knows their stuff inside and out. Proper cursebreaking work on that door, or whatever the mage equivalent is. They even picked the lock. Your house elf must have found them while they were leaving.”  
And each thing they left behind was like a little present, a little clue to let Harry know who he should be looking for, and how and where they might strike next. The target was similar to a previous theft from the Ministry of Magic- Egyptian origin, and similar era. The bullet showed they were no stranger to the muggle world. The accuracy showed the shooter was no amateur, but also a sort of naivete about how wizards worked. The house elf would have been no threat, and certainly not one needing a round tipped with alchemical silver. Perhaps there were two thieves, not one. One to dismantle the protective charms, another for any physical problems.  
Whoever they were, they had one foot firmly set in the Dark Arts and the other in the technology of the Sixth World. That made them more than just dangerous. It made them nearly unique, and unique was much easier to find.


	11. Snowbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 11: Away   
> Oh no! That was the last train / bus / car / ship out of here. Now your character(s) will never make it back in time for the festivities and someone is counting on them to be there. (500)

Lyra looked out the window of her old bedroom. If she wanted to make it back to London tonight, she should have done it well over an hour ago. She had scored a date to a New Year’s celebration and wanted to ride the emotional high of being out with a million strangers, drunk on real champagne and AR overstimulation. Now she was stuck without a working commlink, miles away from any city, and with an impenetrable wall of snowfall around her. She doubted her date would believe her bad luck, or understand that there was such a thing as having no access to the Matrix. Nor could she ask Draco to send a letter flying to London on his granddaughter’s behalf.  
She could take a broom most of the way, Lyra supposed. She’d flown in worse. Then again, it was just a party and a meal ticket with an elf that she wasn’t terribly sure she’d wanted to see much longer. It all seemed like a terrible waste of effort. But Lyra didn’t feel at home here, either, among the twenty-year old posters of Quidditch players and ancient wooden furniture in her bedroom. Draco had even kept out her old doll house, still eternally at war with an army of toy soldiers that had taken to loitering around their miniature tents or stacking and unstacking pyramids of gobstone faux-cannonballs without commands to fulfill. Only one soldier had left camp, and he was busy wooing the daughter of the dollhouse family as he had every moment of every day since Lyra left home.  
Lyra smirked, crouching down by the four-storey mansion. She picked up the toy soldier and his lady from the parlor and her parent’s watchful eye and balanced them on the dollhouse roof. Side by side they looked up at the stars painted on the bedroom ceiling. Their miniature hands pointed out false constellations and they giggled silently to each other. Some of the soldiers in camp took note, and appeared to cheer their fellow on. Lyra wondered if their empty heads thought he was a spy or simply the luckiest man in the regiment.  
That was it. She tired already of playing house. If she needed to entertain herself further, she would just have to go downstairs and join the wizards’ party she was sure would beginning soon. Snow was nothing for the wizards and their ability to apparate and use floo powder. The storm could rage so hard that every window of Malfoy Manor would be covered, and still there would be no halt to their business. She was loathe to share the evening with the judgmental pureblood scum Lucius tended to invite, but Harry had said at Christmas he had no plans for New Year’s Eve. Perhaps he would be willing to return for the night. With him she could get up to any sort of excitement and mischief, even if they were snowbound.


	12. Old School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 12: Cantankerous  
> No holiday is complete without at least one run in with some cantankerous old soul. Is it someone your character encounters or has your character developed a major case of the bah humbugs? (200)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Hermione would have gone whole-hog with metahuman and metasapient rights. SPEW has been reborn and expanded into Uprooting Politico-Cultural Hegemony for Universal Caring Communities (UPCHUCC).

“It’s racist, is what it is.” Hermione grumbled. With her mass of unruly white hair she looked even more like a storm cloud brewing. Harry took a deep drink of wine from his glass. This was going to be a long Christmas dinner.  
“It’s a picture of Santa’s workshop.” Granddad rolled his eyes, “Don’t bring up that SPEW nonsense again, we’ve passed the diamond anniversary on it.”  
“SPEW is the old name, and we’re going to have to take it seriously if we want to keep up enrollment at Hogwarts. How would you feel if, at age 10, you had a chance to be pulled out of the mess that is out there and your first holiday you see all of your teachers and classmates still calling dwarves ‘elves’ and have pictures of them working in a human-run sweatshop? It’s terrible for a young child.”  
“You’ll be wanting to start a snake-person sensitivity training next.”  
“They’re called naga, Harry. And if one can get their Hogwarts letter, I’m going to make sure they get all the support they need. They’re people too. The rest of the world has its own magic, Harry. We can’t just pretend like it’s only pure-bloods and half-bloods and muggles anymore.”


	13. Better than Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13: Dinner Time   
> Everyone has to eat. It's one of those things that draws people together from every walk of life. Your MC is about to show the people they care about how meals were done in their neck of the woods. Maybe it's a simple recipe from the heart, or perhaps where they come from, mealtime customs are quite different. (400)

“You’re not allergic to krill or soy, are you?” Lyra asked as she rifled through the cabinet above her food Processing Unit. A dozen flavor packets fell out and bounced with a series of dull thuds on the countertop and then on to the floor. One managed to lay square on top of the Processing Unit. It was embarrassing. Harry could see the entire scene in from her futon in her tiny London flat.  
“Not that I know of. Why? What’s for dinner?”  
Lyra picked up the flavor packet that had landed on top of the processing unit. If it was the one to land so nicely, it must have been some sort of sign. It had landed face-up too. “Stuffer Shack beef-flavor stroganoff, looks like.” Lyra said, turning over the package to look at the directions, “You want it with rice or noodles? The rice will be mush, the noodles will be hard, both’ll taste like burned cardboard.”  
“…Uh, rice then.”  
Lyra ripped open the flavor packet with her teeth and dumped its contents to the designated well in the Processing Unit and heaped out a cup of rice and a brick of krill protein to their own respective places. Squinting to read in the dim light, she pressed the setting buttons as instructed forcefully. The piece of drek of a machine was on its last legs, but Lyra couldn’t shell out more for a new one until she saved up enough for some gear. By the time she had cleaned up the scattered flavor packets the meal was done. She scooped the steaming, chunky, grey mess onto its bed of white rice.  
Harry looked at his meal dubiously and took a brave spoonful while Lyra found two glasses she was reasonably certain had been washed recently and poured out some synth-alcohol.  
“I could transfigure something better.” Harry mumbled. “It smells like fish.”  
“Yeah? And then you’ll fragging draw every wizard and their devilrat over. If you want to be lying low in my flat, you eat my food. Be grateful.”  
Lyra drowned her desire to say something more with a mouthful of rice that was half crunchy, half soup. It wasn’t like she wanted to be eating this drek either. She wished Harry would understand that building yourself up nothing among the SINless was nothing to scoff at. If he had come to her for help a few years ago, he’d have had to look for her in the London sewers.  
“Be grateful.” Lyra warned, “I am.”


	14. School Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 14: Merry   
> In 50 words or less, write a small piece that shows us the word merry. Remember not to use the word in your story! (50)

Harry started humming, “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, warty Hogwarts…”  
Pick your own tune, pick your own tempo. Harry wondered how many times he had changed his own way of singing his school song, and if he would ever tire of hearing the cacophonous din of everyone singing it together, even if it was only in in memories.


End file.
